Tick, tock. Diez’s departure restored quiet to the office once more. Only the second hand of the clock announced its small presence.

Left alone, Jürgen looked down again at the documents before him. But the letters simply wouldn’t register. Irritation was the natural progression.

“Damn it.”

Finally, he placed his pen on the desk with annoyance and rubbed between his eyebrows. A man not even worth a funeral. Perhaps he should have just ordered him buried carelessly somewhere.

The late Duke had a pathological fondness for toying with women. Having affairs with other women while having a wife was commonplace for him. The prestige of being the head of one of the Empire’s top five noble houses was enough to attract women who knew nothing.

Eventually, his mother, exhausted by his womanizing, disappeared from his side one day, never to return. Though Jürgen was just a young boy at the time, he understood her in some corner of his heart.

No one would have wanted to stay by his father’s side.

The late Duke’s obsession with women continued until Jürgen grew up and took on the role of the actual head of the family. When his father grew older and was about to step down from his position as Duke, he developed dementia in the most terrible way.

His father eventually used debt as leverage to purchase a woman.

Of all people, Diez Schleicher.

He played with Diez to his heart’s content, then died alone, blatantly passing her on to Jürgen.

He felt like spitting on his grave.

Jürgen was a different kind of person from the late Duke. He neither thirsted for women nor would he ever do so. He had not the slightest intention of becoming a son who resembled his father, who waved his lower body around without any shame.

He had to be different.

Just imagining following in his father’s footsteps made him feel like vomiting.

Diez Schleicher.

What am I to do with you?

It would be better to remove her from his sight, but even that wasn’t an easy task. Suddenly conscious that Diez had been here until just now, Jürgen jumped up from his seat and flung open the window.

The rain was finally beginning to subside. The fresh air carrying the scent of wet soil helped calm his hellish mood somewhat.

It took some time to completely regain his composure.

I could just throw her out and be done with it.

Why am I getting so angry over that mere woman? Why does irritation surge through me every time I see Diez?

Could it be that memories of a fleeting childhood crush are affecting me now?

There was a time when Diez shone brilliantly. Having glimpsed that figure occasionally from the sidelines, he could testify to it directly if asked. Though not nobility, she was the only daughter of a nouveau riche family that wielded influence greater than nobility.

Jürgen still remembered the lady who had shone like sunshine. No matter how crowded the place, she was always a noticeable presence wherever she went.

If happiness were to be materialized, wouldn’t it look like a woman like her? That’s what he had thought.

Perhaps that’s why he liked Diez.

Because it seemed as if what he had wished for since childhood was right before his eyes.

But even that was now merely a thing of the past.

The Schleicher family had fallen, and Diez, once loved like a princess, had been reduced to being raised under his father. Strictly speaking, none of these matters concerned Jürgen.

But…… it bothered him. The very fact that Diez was staying in the same mansion irritated his nerves like a visible speck of dust.

The moment of that distant first love had long passed.

Jürgen no longer harbored any feelings for Diez. He had no intention to, nor was there any need.

Because he had to be different from his father.

Whatever longing he had in the past, he had no intention of desiring his father’s mistress in the same way.

Diez slept like the dead until dawn the next day. No one bothered to worry about or look for her, though she had been out of sight for half a day. She was a growth created by the late Duke. The servants always worried she might grow into a tumor for the family.

No one said it directly, but it was something she could feel on her skin.

Only when morning broke did someone knock on Diez’s door.

“Miss Schleicher?”

“Come in.”

The maid who entered was carrying a wide tray with a simple meal. After placing the tray on the table, she announced over her shoulder,

“Please let us know when you’re finished. The Duke has ordered us to bring you to him.”

“……Yes, I heard yesterday.”

“Please eat quickly. He said to bring you as soon as you finish your meal.”

Diez sat at the table and stared down at the meal prepared for her.

A few slices of rye bread and thin cream soup.

* * *

After finishing her meal, Diez followed behind the maid. Despite having eaten so little, she already felt uncomfortable. Perhaps it was from the tension of watching the maid’s reactions.

It was unavoidable for Diez. Throughout her meal, the maid had looked down at her with obvious scrutiny. It was a pressuring gaze, as if telling her not to waste too much time.

Being coldly treated by the maids was already familiar to her. Every servant knew how she was treated here, having been sold to pay off a debt. They openly ridiculed and despised her, and the late Duke had condoned such an atmosphere.

Almost no one here treated Diez as an equal human being. She should be grateful just for receiving a decent meal.

Jürgen’s room was in the opposite direction from the office. The maid, standing in front of the door with Diez behind her, bowed her head politely and said,

“Your Grace, I’ve brought Miss Schleicher as you instructed.”

“Send her in.”

Not wanting to stay with the openly uncomfortable maid any longer, Diez opened the door herself and entered. A neat space was revealed before her eyes. It was a cozy space with a wide sofa, table, and a large fireplace being the most noticeable features.

Diez carefully stepped onto the soft carpet on the floor. Jürgen stood by the window with his back to her, looking outside.

“Um……”

As she hesitantly announced her presence, Jürgen turned his head. Today he was dressed in a neat vest. Though his features clearly showed he was the late Duke’s son, he seemed like a completely different person.

Was it because his atmosphere, posture, and even his way of speaking…… everything was different from the Duke she had known?

“Miss Schleicher.”

Unlike yesterday, he didn’t show any clear hostility. He simply treated Diez in a thoroughly businesslike manner.

“Please sit.”

He pointed to one side of the sofa. To be instructed to sit on the same sofa as the Duke—this was a first in the more than five years she had lived here.

Diez awkwardly took a seat on the sofa. Meanwhile, Jürgen sat in what could be called the head seat and poured tea into his cup.

Splash. The sound of pouring tea dispelled the silence.

“Have you eaten?”

“Yes.”

“I trust you remember why I called you here first thing in the morning.”

“……Of course I remember.”

Jürgen wanted to hear, without omission, how the late Duke had treated her. Judging by how he called for Diez as soon as day broke, he seemed surprisingly sincere.

She still didn’t understand.

Why do you want to know that?

Diez raised her head and her gaze met Jürgen’s. There was not a trace of sympathy to be found in him. In fact, it was difficult to read his expression at all.

His face, devoid of even a hint of emotion, remained coldly rigid.

“Then tell me.”

He said, bringing the teacup to his lips.

“About the things my father did to you.”

“The late Duke……”

Whether she understood or not, Diez had no choice but to follow the Duke’s instructions. But not knowing his intentions made it difficult to begin. Where should she start? What should she focus on as she continued?

What exactly does Jürgen want from me?

“……He sheltered me here for five years.”

“Do you think I called you here just to hear such trivial words?”

Jürgen’s voice suddenly turned sharp.

“Calmly tell me exactly what you experienced.”

Meanwhile, he could tell that Diez was uncomfortable. He could feel it even without making direct eye contact. But whether Diez was uncomfortable or not, he was determined to hear the story to the end.

Father bought Diez to raise and wield her like a pet. She must have clearly experienced several irrational things.

He wanted to know. What had happened to Diez here? And how exactly did  his father play with her?

Even if knowing would do no good, somehow he was overcome with a sense of duty that he must.

Why?

“……I often shared his daily life. Sometimes we would go for walks together, and sometimes I would dine beside him. Of course, I was only allowed to touch food prepared separately for me, but……”

“Continue.”

“He didn’t always beat me. When he was in a good mood, there were times when he would dote on me for days. But when he wasn’t in a good mood, or when I accidentally upset him……”

Diez momentarily hesitated, finding it difficult to continue. The sound of Jürgen putting down his teacup felt like a voice urging her on, so she had to painfully continue.